The Meaning of Waste
by Patria
Summary: Rating for subject matter, out of caution. 5 Short stories about the mess Courfeyrac made in life. COMPLETE! Please R&R.
1. The Meaning of Waste

A/N: This is just a short little thing I wrote after reading the Amis deaths for the 10th time on the plane to Florida. Morbid, Angsty. Call it whatever you may. My sister called it a waste of time. My first serious LM fic. (It was brought to my attention that I was using the feminine version of Courfeyrac's name so this is just modified to be without the extra e's)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Les Mis, the barricades or Courfeyrac. Wait no...I do own Courfeyrac. :: Devilish grin::  
  
Courfeyrac was killed. The single thought shot through her a million times at once. No matter what she tried to think about she was driven back to that one thing: René. /Her/ beloved René...was dead.  
  
She could bear the pain in the empty flat no longer. For a day now she had sat there on his bed waited for him to return from the barricades; he had not. Not even Marius, the dreamer boy who resided with Courfeyrac had returned.  
  
Now she feared he was dead. She /knew/ he was dead. She had heard news of the barricade being taken full-force by unyielding soldiers from people passing by and talking loudly in the hallway. She shuddered at the thought of her René being mercilessly slaughtered at the hands of some black-hearted pig when he was only fighting for what he believed in. What /they/ believed in.  
  
She had begged to go to the barricades with him. He would not permit it. He didn't want her to die a needless death. The words he used as he sent her away still rang in her head, "Angeline, I love you, but I cannot let you come with me. Especially carrying my child. Go, live a long happy life and carry on our legacy." At that she had managed a weak smile. No, it was a grimace. Now she had regretted she had let him go so easily. She should have refused to go away without him; she had not.  
  
Slowly, she fingered the knife she had bought despairingly from a street beggar after she had left him. "René my life /is wasted/ without you." A single tear rolled down her pallid cheek as she plunged the dull knife into her heart. 


	2. In a Shot

A/N: Okay, after a while this was screaming to be done. A friend (you know who you are) made the comment to me that if every girl who Courfeyrac had been that close to committed suicide after the fall of the barricades half of Paris' female population would be dead. I realized the amount of truth to that and just had to write another with the intention of more to come...

Ps. I tried to make this one different from most seeing as this subject is overdone.  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of Hugo's characters, nor do I own Les Mis. I do however; own all of Courfeyrac's suicidal lovers.  
  
Aurore walked slowly, as if not to disturb the bodies scattered around her. She looked over each one with downcast eye. Where was he? She knew he was there. There wasn't a way in the world he had survived this. From what she had heard none of the insurgents were spared, none survived. Then, she saw him. His crimson vest stained darker with his own blood, his body laying limp over another. Even in death he looked to lighten the situation. Not a single tear streamed down her face. She couldn't, wouldn't cry. Kneeling down, she took his lifeless hand in hers. "René" she whispered, as if she were trying to wake him from a peaceful slumber. She heard others approaching and simply hung her head without recognition of the footsteps. René had been al she'd had in Paris and now she had lost him too. The series of footsteps neared her and stopped.  
  
"Mademoiselle, I suggest you leave here." She heard a rough voice say. She looked up to see a man in a national guard uniform staring her down.

"No." Was all she managed to stammer as she wrapped an arm protectively over Courfeyrac's body.

"We," the man said, gesturing to the small group of men behind him, "have to clean up this mess and you will not get in the way."

"But my husband..." She lied, running out of things to say quicker than she could speak.

"Leave."

"No." The man turned around and tersely conversed with one of his comrades. When he turned back to Aurore he had a carbine in his hand. "Leave."

She straightened herself up and spoke. "I will share his fate."  
  
A single shot rang out and the Republic claimed another.  
  
A/N: I know I'll probably get reviews telling me that the likeliness of an event like this occurring was zero, but I, in attempt to be slightly more original than the previous story decided to write like this anyway...so there!


	3. When a Profession Dies

A/N: Actually updating again so soon! This is the third in what I intend to be a collection of five short stories.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Hugo's Les Misérables unfortunately.  
  
Eponine-meliara – That's exactly the reaction I was hoping for, no matter how twisted I sound. Thanks!  
  
"Caroline" Sabine said, breathless from running back to the flat after a full night's work. A couple of the other women sharing the small one-room flat with the pair looked up as Caroline rushed over and Sabine spoke. "What's the news? Why are you here? Why aren't you at the barricades?"  
  
Caroline smiled at Sabine sadly. Caroline had been delivering messages between barricades during the Insurrection for the previous two days. Her presence at what they had come to call home made Sabine uneasy. Sabine, on the other hand had been working for a rich bourgeois whose wife was on holiday, making enough money for both of them. Caroline shot a look at the other two women who both got up and left the flat without a word, knowing what was coming next.  
  
"Sabine, he's dead." Caroline told Sabine, placing a hand on her shoulder in attempt to bring some form of comfort to the situation.  
  
Sabine shook her head. "No," she whispered, her eyes clouded and her voice meek. "No."  
  
"Sabine. You have to move on. Whatever you do you cannot bring René back."  
  
Sabine shook her head. Courfeyrac had started out as any other customer. But night after night he would come back to her both treating and paying her well. She had loved him and his urbane charm more than anything else. He had taught her to love. She sank to her knees, sobbing.  
  
"I'll leave you alone." Caroline said softly, walking out of the cluttered flat, leaving Sabine to herself.  
  
After Caroline left, Sabine began searching frantically around the floor, not even aware of what she was looking for. After piles of strewn about rags being displaced she found something; a small rusted piece of metal. How it appeared there under the mess of everything she didn't know, nor did she care.  
  
Silently, she prayed. "René, I'm coming." She whispered through her tears. She began wildly slashing her wrists with the shard of metal. At long last she fell back, a small smiled pursed on her lips.

A/N: I intend to have the fifth and final one up on Barricade day, expect a different tone to that one than the rest. Now, you see that little button down there? It says review! Do me a favor and obey the all-might button!


	4. A Horse Named Reaper

A/N: Okay! Number four! I'm on a roll! I promise I /will/ have number five up for Barricade Day!! Its already half-done, so I promise it'll be complete!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of Hugo's work. How unfortunate ( I also don't own the few lines of Phantom of the Opera I use. I do however own 5 of Courfeyrac's deranged lovers.  
  
Nebulia – You know, when I was writing the death scene for this one, I almost started laughing. Because you expect them all to die, so it's just a matter of how. Heh, I polled a couple friends for this one...  
  
NOTE!!: For some reason lover number four did not even hear of the barricades occurring where they did.  
  
We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea...She hummed softly to herself while wandering the streets of Paris, only to head to Corinth in hopes of seeing Courfeyrac, whom she had not seen a trace of since she had given herself to him a fortnight past.  
  
As she neared the Corinth she noticed piles of paving stones, a cut rope that looked as if it may have once been binding someone's hands at one time or another and various other pieces of debris strewn about. Beginning to slacken her pace, she noticed that it was much more than just a pile of wreckage, it's was the remnants of a barricade. Rounding the corner she saw bodies lying scattered about the ground. A thought struck her. Did Courfeyrac fight here? Was he dead, here, in this mass of bodies? Every nerve in her told her to turn around, and never return. Yielding no attention to the sheer terror that clung to her she pressed onward. She heard shouts, that of a man and a woman arguing ahead of her. Following the voices she saw a group of National Guardsmen facing a young woman about her own age. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay wrapped under the woman's arm. It was Courfeyrac. "René" she breathed in a nearly inaudible tone, minding to keep herself concealed behind what may have been a fraction of the barricade. She heard a shot ring out and saw the woman recoil back in pain. "René!" She screamed, as if she were expecting him to awaken and come to her, away from the dying woman that now lay on top of him. A few of the National Guardsmen looked back in her immediate direction as she ducked behind the cover of the ruins and set about running. Tears began streaming down her face uncontrollably.  
  
"Martine, I love you." The words encompassed her mind. Lifting her skirts she ran faster. Courfeyrac, who but a week ago pledged his undying love for her, was dead. What if she had become pregnant with his child? Her life would be ruined. She saw a busy road ahead and headed directly for it. There was a cabriolet rushing down the street. In an instant, Martine was in front of it, soon getting tangled under the spooked horse's hooves. The horse rushed forward after trampling Martine and dragged the cabriolet over her body and away. A group formed around her mangled form and one man, who claimed to be a doctor, searched for sign of life in an otherwise lifeless form. The doctor looked from the group to the corpse and back again. After heaving a sigh the doctor made his announcement. "She's dead." 


	5. The Price to Fight

A/N: Hey, last one! Happy Barricade Day everyone!! I'd like to give a special thanks to Nebulia for being an awesome reviewer and Koi Megami for being an awesome friend! - Special thanks to Steph and Shellie on the last one for their inadvertent help!  
  
Disclaimer: Still don't own anything but Five dead woman. How lovely.  
  
Note: This Chapter takes place BEFORE the first four stories, during the insurrection.  
  
Courfeyrac sat still at the foot of the barricade, occasionally cracking a joke in relation to the conversation, causing the insurgents around him to chuckle. They sat talking about nothing and everything, periodically recieving slightly agitated glances from Enjolras, who was milling about making sure everything was in working order for the next battle. The occasional sound of a few stray bullets was heard, ignored for the most part by the majority of the insurgents.  
  
A figure was seen staggering towards the group of men. A few who were facing it looked up and stared, causing the men facing them to turn around and look as well. The figured, which had revealed itself apparently as a gamin, most likely a few years junior to most of the insurgents, slumped to the ground, obviously injured. A couple of the men rushed over, including Courfeyrac. He knelt down next to the wounded figure, noticing something vaguely familiar about the face of the young boy. "René" he whispered, bringing to Courfeyrac the realization that the boy was not really a boy at all but a young woman; one of his mistresses.  
  
"Go! Get Joly and Combeferre here!" Courfeyrac ordered the men around him, leaving only a few men standing around him. "Go!" he said, causing the remaining insurgents to scatter away.  
  
"Virginie? What do you think you're doing? Why are you here?" Courfeyrac asked her, more frustrated than worried.  
  
"I came to fight with you." She said, smiling as best she could, ignoring the searing pain in her chest.  
  
"Virginie...God, Virginie, why would you do that?" Courfeyrac cradled her head in his arms, more out of support than love.  
  
"René, oh don't be silly René, you've always...had...the silliest...notions." She began having difficulty talking, making Courfeyrac more aware of the bullet hole spilling the deep red, metallic blood of Virginie around her. Courfeyrac's eyes began to soften as he looked at her. "I...love you." she said softly.  
  
Courfeyrac's eyes widened. This girl was dying for him. Dying because she came to fight next to him. He took the cap off her head and ran his fingers through her hair, tangled and snarled from being carelessly and hastily tucked into the cap. "Virginie, you shouldn't have come here. I told you not to..."  
  
"Hush René." She whispered. "I'm fine."  
  
"No" he shook his head. "No you're not. Joly! Combeferre!"  
  
"We're coming Courfeyrac!"  
  
Courfeyrac looked up to see Combeferre running towards him, with Joly not far behind, carrying his medical bag. He looked down at Virginie. Her eyes were closed. Courfeyrac stood up as Combeferre kneeled down beside Virginie. "Did you know her?" Joly asked Courfeyrac quietly.  
  
"Yes, she was my mistress."  
  
"Courfeyrac," Combeferre looked back up. "She's dead."  
  
Courfeyrac remained silent, staring into space.  
  
"I'll help carry her in." Joly said, kneeling opposite Combeferre, gently positioning his hands under her body. Combeferre complied and gently they lifted up Virginie's body and bringing her into the Corinth, leaving Courfeyrac standing alone.  
  
"Why..." he mused softly to himself, "...would any woman die for me?"  
  
Fin  
  
A/N: It's done!!! Yay!! I apologize if you thought anyone was OOC, and I apologize for not writing Joly in cold-mode...yes...So, I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading!!! 


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